


Things That Are Broken

by Ealasaid



Series: A City In Shadows [2]
Category: Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Mobsterswitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:54:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealasaid/pseuds/Ealasaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scofflaw and Doxy fight after their breakup; Innovator watches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Are Broken

Innovator had no idea why he was there. It was really irritating, he thought, how troublesome the whole business was. He had no idea what had catalyzed the past year’s worth of sniping, but something had set it off, and Doxy had broken up with Scofflaw and was determined to make him pay for whatever it was.  
  
Which is not to say things were going smoothly. When Doxy was involved, things tended to get haphazard and over dramatic, filled with theatrics Scofflaw usually enjoyed. Considering how loudly he was yelling back at her at the moment, Innovator highly doubted he was enjoying this particular drama.  
  
“Where is it?!” Doxy screamed, hitting Scofflaw with her handbag. “I know you have it, now _where is it_ you _sodding tit-shaming shit-smeared piece of asshole—_ ”  
  
“ _What are you_ talking _about?_ ” Scofflaw howled back. “Like I’d take _anything_ of yours, it’s all shitty forgeries anyway—”  
  
Innovator sighed from where he was sitting miserably on the couch, caught on the crossfire. Doxy had burst in unannounced and flown at Scofflaw, who had been talking with Innovator about the goals in dealing with the small-time thieves in the area bordering the eastern end of downtown. They had just been wrapping things up, in fact, but then Doxy had come in and attacked Scoff, who in a remarkable show of restraint had not just blasted her through the window.  
  
Watching the two go at it now, Innovator glowered. Inwardly, he was disgusted by the show-- it was extremely impolite to interrupt business, and even worse to become inattentive to a guest. Scoff usually always ended up inattentive, but he did not do that while screaming about personal business to a wild floozy like Doxy.  
  
The two of them had been well suited to each other, the tinkerer thought privately. Both insane, with the same disregard for socially acceptable behavior—Scoff’s because for so long he had been forced to do it, Doxy’s because Doxy was... well, Doxy. Hardly a paragon of high society even when she tried, something Scofflaw _could_ do.  
  
Sometimes Innovator wished that Scofflaw would stop pretending to be a slum lord. It was not snobbery by any means; he simply believed on an instinctual level that Scofflaw was worth more than the crass trappings he affected, and though Scofflaw neglected their camaraderie more often than not, he still wished that their inveterate leader would stop wallowing in a sort of twisted, affectionate loyalty.  
  
He came out of his digression. The two of them were nose to nose, now, Scofflaw bending over and Doxy drawing herself up as high as she could go, shouting invective and accusations alike in a caterwauling cacophony that hurt Innovator’s ears and made him want to crawl under a rock and hide.  
  
“GIVE IT BACK!” she shrieked, voice like nails on a chalkboard, hands buried in Scoff’s hair and twisting viciously. “ALL OF IT! My JEWELRY, my CLOTHES, my _LIFE_ —”  
  
“You _bitch_ ,” Scofflaw hissed, loosing what was left of his control. He hated having his hair pulled, Innovator knew; the Queen used to do that to him, grab him by the hair and tow him around when she was angry with him. Doxy was playing with high grade explosive, and she was liable to get pretty badly fucked up. Stupid woman.  
  
Scofflaw proved that hypothesis by shooting out a hand; he did not bother to leave it open and slap her across the face, he just sank his fist into Doxy’s stomach and knocked the wind out of her instead. She made a strange croaking noise and keeled over, gaping like a fish, to the floor.  
  
“ _You test my temper_ ,” Scofflaw gritted out, voice icier than Innovator had heard in a long time. He did not have to face Scofflaw to know that the other man’s eyes were burning with shadow magic, he could smell the frosted ozone in the air. “Take whatever you want and _get out of my building._ ”  
  
Doxy looked up at him, furious, and went white instead. Innovator would have smiled in satisfaction, but Scofflaw was liable to turn on anyone in this state, so he ignored the thought and Doxy and continued to minutely examine his bony fingers.  
  
Scofflaw turned derisively on Doxy and winked out of the room with a crack; Innovator absently wondered whether he had gone to the common hideout or one of his other apartments. He did not mean Innovator to follow, that was sure.  
  
“You shouldn’t try him so,” he said quietly to the woman, frozen on the floor. “I thought you’d have learned that by now.”  
  
She looked over at him, crying silently, and all in one go Innovator saw that she was hurt and scared, a frightened little child without an anchor. And why wouldn’t she be? he though-- he was all their anchors, was Scofflaw, the only person binding them together and keeping them from drifting out of touch with reality or sanity. The fact that Scofflaw was half mad himself did not escape Innovator’s sense of irony.  
  
He got up and held out a hand to her and helped her to her shaky feet. She sniffled and he handed her one of his handkerchiefs, worn but clean. “I can help you with your things,” he offered politely while Doxy composed herself.  
  
“No,” she said thickly, terror making her sullen. “No, it’s all right. I know you don’t want to be here with me anyway, Inny.” She scornfully crumpled the handkerchief into a ball and shoved it in his pocket. “Go back to your master, puppy, he’s probably torturing kittens ‘r somethin’.”  
  
“You know he doesn’t hold with animal cruelty,” Innovator said mildly, ignoring her rudeness and pretending ignorance. Such was politeness; turning the other cheek and all that. He would burn the handkerchief when he got home.    
  
“Just get out!” Doxy screamed at him, and pushed him back. “Go home! Go curl up at his feet or fetch him his things, you stupid—stupid—” she was crying again, and incoherent.  
  
Innovator looked at her mournfully. “He only pays attention to me because of business and old associations,” he said sadly. “He’s not capable of giving any of us what we want of him.”  
  
“You’re lying,” she hissed and slapped him, before stomping off to the bedroom still rubbing errant tears away.  
  
Innovator wished she was right.


End file.
